Rube, this is your Afterlife
by dustytiger
Summary: rube does some thinking about his life, and his afterlife COMPLETE


TITLE: Rube, this is your Afterlife (part 1of1)  
SPOILERS: some season 1, !!!!!!!LOTS OF SEASON 2 up to 2.4 The Shallow End!!  
AUTHOR: trista groulx (aka dustytiger)  
DISCLAIMER: rube, roxy, mason, daisy, george, and betty are not mine they belong to showtime, their creator, and the actors and actresses who portraty them, i'm only boring them for a bit, please don't sue!  
RATING: PG13 to be safe for language  
CONTENT: rube/other romance ANGST (kleenex alert for the criers)  
SUMMARY: rube does some thinking about his life, and his afterlife  
AUTHORS NOTES: this is a stand alone, you will not get me to write a sequal to this fic, what isn't explained has been left for a reason, yes i coped out of the death scene it was intentional, i needed slightly more suspence but not enough to write all the ensuing chaos, you'll see.... Celia is a name taken from my first DLM fic, you don't have to read it to understand, i just like the name and it goes nicely with rube  
---

My name is Rube, just Rube. That wasn't always my name, but everyone's called me Rube for so long that's all I go by. My old name, like my old life is ancient history, a distant memory that I only wish clearly remembered. My wish upon a star has been for a long time, to stop seeing history in the making. I've seen so much of it in the past hundred plus years. I may not look like I'm over a hundred years old, but appearances can be deceiving. I am undead, welcome to my afterlife.. They tell me that I'm undead for a reason, but I haven't yet figured it out yet. So here I am stuck on this planet for as long as it takes me to figure out why it is I'm stuck here.

I'm also a grim reaper. Not just any grim reaper either, I'm the leader of a small group of grim reapers that I have to make sure don't fuck with the living too much. I'm not all that different from anyone else, a little more jaded, maybe. And I wish to die rather then live forever, you don't know what you have until you loose it. I've been stuck on this earth for much too long. I've been stuck doing a job I hate for longer then anyone I know, and I can't even quit and get a new one. I was in no mood to put up with my team's antics, but as fate would have it they were ALL running late that morning. Admittedly I am too, since I was expecting them to already be there.

I can almost hear the Hollywood style voice over. "Today we are featuring a long time grim reaper, a leader, on This is Your Afterlife!" I sighed loudly as I went to my regular table at my regular haunt, Der Waffle Haus. Kiffany, our regular waitress came over with a cup of coffee in her hand. She was good, real good, and with all she heard she never questioned a thing.

"Where's the rest of the crew today?" She asked, a not even fake looking smile on her face.

"Late," I replied.

"Can I get you anything to eat?"

I thought for a moment. "How about a giant stack of mini waffles this morning?"

"Coming right up!"

The bells on the door rang, and I looked up to see if anyone I needed had walked in. Sure enough Roxy walked in, dressed in her uniform. Her hat in one hand, a coffee and a bagged sandwich in the other. She was the tough one in the group, and the hardest working. She had always had a day job on top of her reaping responsibilities, and not the kind that it's easy to sneak away from. She had been a meter maid, before she decided to become a cop.

"Morning, Rube, I'm running late, could you just give me my post-it so I can get maybe get to work on time?" she asked, putting her hat on.

"Sure." I handed her the post it, and she rushed out the door.

Roxy wasn't very open with anyone, and I hardly knew her. I knew she was a tough cookie, with a good heart. Her temper had gotten her into a little bit of trouble in both her jobs, but she was the least of my worries. I knew that when I needed her she was there, and she'd do what needed to be done.

In walked the resident fuck-up, Mason. I guess I shouldn't expect much from the guy who thought it would be a good idea to drill a hole in the back of his head. Who in their right mind thinks that will give them a good high? I knew that he was drinking again, but decided not to call him on it. If it became a problem I knew I'd have to do something about it.

"Morning Rube!" he said sitting down across from me. His accent seemed to be decreasing every time he opened his mouth.

"Morning."

Kiffany returned with my breakfast, and a cup of coffee for Mason. "What can I get you today?"

"A big plate of those small potatoes," he replied.

"Home fries?"

"Those are the ones! Thanks luv!"

She scurried off to place the order. Mason didn't work, I don't think he ever had a day in his life. But he got by just fine, looting, what he needed, and charming who he needed to survive. His habits didn't interfere too much with the work he needed to do for me. It was his carefree attitude that made him fuck up. He never grasped the severity of anything. He would go right up to a woman and tell her he was a grim reaper just to get laid. He didn't see the importance of keeping things mum, and was a thorn in my side because of it.

His gaze went to the door, he always seemed to know someone he knew was coming moments before she entered a room. A coy smile crossed his lips, and he softened whenever she came near. She may be a bit of a trouble maker sometimes, but she was a pretty good reaper.

Daisy, the actress, at least she would have been had fate not snuffed her out before she had the chance to prove herself. She was a throw back to a short-lived era. A classic young Hollywood beauty, with a wild side she hid very well under an innocent mask and a shy smile. Every man she came across felt special when she even so much as touched them, as if he were the first man she had ever touched before.

In her old group she had had a lot of trouble, but after her first scheme I set her straight. I couldn't control her personal life but I could control how she played with the souls she reaped. She took the hint after one scheme, knowing I would not put up with her bullshit. She was now acting the part of a Christian, and I wondered how long the transformation would last. I hoped she'd keep it, it strangely suited her.

"Good morning Rube!" she said, her smile radiant as always.

"Good morning," I replied.

"Morning Mason," she smiled. "Just move over a smidge so I can sit down will 'ya?"

He gladly moved. He'd probably jump in front of a train for that woman, and she knew it. She liked to play with him, just for the sake of teasing him. Lately though they seemed a little bit more cozy together, but I didn't question it. Again if the time came I would address the issue, but there was no point in meaningless warnings. What they did was their business as long as it didn't screw me up I didn't give a fuck.

Kiffany came back once again, delivering Mason's home fries, and giving Daisy a cup of herbal tea.

"Mmm, thank you, Kiffany," she said warmly. "Could I get a fruit plate please?"

"Of course you can."

"Thank you."

People just weren't like that anymore, and it was damn shame. With all the emphasis on getting things done better and faster people lost their manners. Daisy, however never did, and never seemed to change with the times. Daisy wasn't too far after my time, and found her easy to get along with

I heard the car before I saw her come in. The youngest of the group, who I had a soft spot for. Even though couldn't stand the youth of the time. As I simply couldn't understand why it was that the youth were so riddled with angst, and George she was no exception. I knew she was a good kid, but she was difficult, and reclusive. She was also angry with the world for no reason. I knew her reason, and maybe that's why I sympathized with her more then any other angst ridden young girl I had ever come across. My own daughter had been only a little younger when I died, so I felt like George was my second chance.

She sat down next to me, falling into the bench with no grace what-so-ever. I watched as the youth became less and less polite, and more and more self absorbed throughout the years at this job. Don't get me wrong, I like George, but I liked kids better when they had manners, and respect for other people. Kids were better when their parents had the time to parent, and used their own common sense. Now if you have a kid with a problem you get a book or a shrink, it pissed me off. George would be such a better young woman had her parents had a clue, if fate had dealt her a very different deck of cards.

Kiffany came back once again, the fruit plate in one hand, the coffee pot in the other. She filled mine, and Mason's mugs, after giving Daisy her plate.

"Are you going to eat what you order today?" she asked looking at George. Who had been a right bitch

leaving just as Kiffany went to deliver her food of late.

She shrugged. "I just want to toast."

I had to admit the woman had patience, I would have dumped the pot of coffee on her head! She's a reaper she'd heal quickly. There had been another reaper I had had a soft spot for, who I missed more then I thought I would. Her name had been Betty, and she was a pistol. She didn't seem to have a care in the world, nothing scared her. Especially not uncertainty. I guess that was why was able to go with another soul, piggy back. She would have been the perfect influence for George had she been able to keep herself from taking another big jump.

I instinctively passed out the post-its, and before long they all left, leaving me alone with my thoughts, just the way I liked it. Sometimes I wondered how much longer I'd be doomed to be a grim reaper. Sometimes I also wondered I had somehow doomed myself to this fate.

As much as I had once tried not remember my first life, I found myself thinking about it more and more, especially since George had joined our group. Never achieving the results that I wanted. She somehow reminded me of my own daughter, Margaret. I hardly even remembered my wife anymore it had been so long, but Margaret had been my life. I worked so hard to get her the best toys I could. There had been complications during her birth which had made it impossible for my wife to have more children. Sometimes I wondered had it been now if we would have had the same problems. Maybe then I would have got the son I had wanted so badly back then.

She, like George had light brown, not quiet blonde hair, and brown eyes. When George actually smiled they really looked alike. If she smiled more I probably would have called her Margaret by now. As much as I tried not to look the similarities between the two, I was finding it more and more difficult. George had an attitude that I would have adjusted if she had been my daughter, but otherwise she could be my daughter.

I even caught myself calling her my daughter when random chatty Cathies asked me about her after seeing us in public together. I had even told that little girl at the party about having a daughter. I realized after I had said it that I was lucky that the then sober Mason hadn't picked up on it.

As much as I tried not to get attached with the people that I worked with, it was hard. As much as I promised myself not to care about any other reaper I couldn't help but want to care about George. Not in some sick Freudian way either, but I cared for her like a father cares for his daughter, and it scared me. I knew what had happened the first time, and I just hadn't learned.

"You staying for lunch too, today?" Kiffany asked with a laugh.

"Sorry, I was deep in thought, I think I'm going to go home."

She smiled, and handed me the bill. I didn't even look at the price, I put a twenty down, and walked out of the restaurant. A few seconds later she was screaming after me.

"Rube!" she called.

I looked back. "Keep the change, you need it dealing with my group!" I hollered back.

I began to walk faster so she wouldn't try to argue with me about leaving her a tip that was over the amount I had paid for my breakfast. Sometimes I just had the urge to do something nice for another person, as if I needed to balance out the negative I placed on the world. I knew I was just doing my job, but every once in a while I felt like I contributed nothing good to the earth, and I had to make myself feel like I did do good deeds too.

I went home, wanting to be alone with my thoughts. If never had to deal with another person again I would be a very happy man. Life, or afterlife is supposed to have an end, I just couldn't see one coming for me anytime soon. My wish for solitude was interrupted by a knock at my door. I went into the hallway to see a stack of papers on sitting waiting for me. I had missed her again. I had to know if she was who I thought she was. There was no time for that now, I had a lot of work to do. At least my thoughts would be filled with something other then painful old memories for a while.

---

"Bloody hell Rube!" Mason complained, staring at his stack of posts. "Why'd you give me so many?"

"We all have a shitload!" Roxy snapped, smacking him upside the head.

"Death on this scale is just so sad," Daisy sighed, looking at the multitude of post-its everyone had in front of them.

"How, exactly, is this going to work?" George asked all of a sudden.

"Everyone who goes into that building is gong to die, sweetheart," I responded.

"I guess that, but how in the hell are we supposed to get their soul without drawing attention on ourselves?"  
"That's the challenge." Everyone let out audible sighs. "Don't shoot the messenger."

They all stared at their post-its until I made them get up and go to where they had to be.

---

After the chaos of the building collapsing George had decided to give me a ride home. I knew that it had to do with something more then a random act of kindness. I had forgotten that George had not seen mass death in that context before. She had seen influxes of death caused by a mistake once, but she had never seen a building collapse and everyone in it die. I wished I had had time to warn her.

"Do you want to talk about today, Peanut?" I asked her.

"I asked you not to call me that Rube!" she snapped in response.

"Don't be afraid to reach out for help once in a while, Georgia, it won't kill you."

"Jesus Rube, you sound like my mother."

"Try father."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Rube, really."

"Stop being stubborn and talk to me Margaret!" I heard myself say.

"Margaret?"

"Never mind."

"No way, Rube who the hell is Margaret?"

"Was."

She pulled into my drive way. "Who was she?"

"My daughter."

She fell silent, and we both sat in the car for a moment, dumbfounded. I could hardly believe that I had just told her that. I knew that she would not just let me tell her that I had a daughter and leave it at that. As much as I hadn't wanted to open up to anyone, I started thinking that it may be a good thing if I did.

"Why would you call me your daughter's name?" she asked.

"Because you remind me so much of her. Since you joined the group I've been thinking about her a lot. Just looking at you brings back so many memories I thought were lost forever."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

I shrugged. "I haven't decided yet."

She nodded, I knew that she didn't know what to say, or how to react. I wanted so bad to be able to turn back time, and not call her Margaret. I didn't want her to know anything personal about me. I didn't want any other reaper to know anything personal about me. I was very happy being a miserable hermit, who only came out to work, and only because he had to.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" she asked.

"Because I'm your boss, not your second father, George." I snapped, getting out of the car.

"Fine, Rube! Just wallow in your own pitty!"

"Look who's talking!" I called after her as she sped away.

I angrily went into my apartment, this time I wasn't glad to be alone. I shouldn't have snapped her, she hadn't' done anything. It wasn't her fault she looked like my daughter. It wasn't her fault I was mad, and didn't want to associate with the living or the dead. I had fucked up a long time ago. I wouldn't let myself forget what happened the last time I had cared about a reaper. It was true, I loved George in a very different way from the last reaper I had loved. But after it all went to shit I vowed never to care about anything or anyone ever again, and so far I hadn't faltered.

I knew I was kidding myself when I tried to tell myself that I didn't care about George. I did, and I hated myself for it. I could not screw up another reaper's afterlife, even if the feelings I had for George were fatherly, and those I had had for Celia were far from it.

I think Celia was the first woman I had loved. I didn't love my wife, it was a marriage of convenience for all the parties involved. The only reason a child was involved was that it was the duty of a married couple to make babies, so that's exactly what we did.

Together we made the most important person in my life. I knew that men didn't admit to loving their children that much then, but I wondered if other men felt the same way I did. My last thought when I died was about her, how much I would miss her.

Little did I know that I would have so long to miss her. Back when I became a reaper they didn't tend to keep you in the same place as you died, so I was transferred immediately to a big, growing city, where they needed grim reapers.

I never got see my family mourn for me. I never got to see my daughter continue to grow. I couldn't check up on my old life like George could, Sometimes I resented her for it. With communication the way it was when I died I never did find out what happened to Margaret, and I knew that I never would.

I tried more ticks then any other reaper to try to shirk my responsibilities. Which was one of the main reasons I'm glad my lessons helped George. I didn't want her doomed to may fate. I knew what I had done in death to deserve what was happening, but I could not figure out what I had done in life.

That was my problem, and the longer I was on earth the harder it would be for me to remember. It was a horrible catch twenty-two that kept me in my predicament. I knew that I had more then filled my quota, I had been informed of this, repeatedly. They didn't like to let me forget. They loved to remind me that I could not see Celia again until I figured out what I had done in life that made me reaper.

Every reaper had a moment in their lives which determined their fate as a reaper. I knew these reasons for every reaper who was under me. I could even tell them and they'd still be reapers as long as their quota wasn't filled. My dilemma was a punishment, and I had a funny feeling hers was worse.

Just like the nuns in bygone times, it was she who had been blamed for everything. I did what I did because she was a temptress, and slut, so she would have to be dealt with. I too was punished for my misdeed, but not nearly as harshly as she had been.

Back in the days before safe sex wasn't on everyone's mind I made the mistake of falling in love with another reaper. The beautiful, and too caring, Celia. She stopped my path of self-destruction, and possible human destruction, but we soon went on a much more dangerous path. We were warned that the consequences for getting her in trouble were grave, but we didn't care we were in love.

Love, a feeling so powerful it's been getting men in trouble since the beginning of time. Celia and I were able to spend five wonderful years together, before the inevitable happened. She told me that she thought she was pregnant. We both knew it was the end of us, but we didn't know just how bad it was going to be. I wonder to this day if I would have done the same thing knowing the ultimate consequence. Neither of us could have ever imagined the price we would pay for what we had done. For what we had created, though it was out of love. This pregnancy was not like the one with my wife.

You see, reapers can't make babies together, they are able to do it, but it is not an advisable. In fact, if the world ever saw a child made by two undead beings that would be the end of everything as we know it. Most reapers assume that Gravlings somehow come from reapers sexual misdeeds, I know better. Gravelings are creatures all on their own, another mystery of life and death.

A reaper can procreate with a living person, but cannot have any ties to their child. This mostly because of a child's incisive nature. They would ask why his or her other parent changes while the one does not, and the reaper would be busted and at a loss to explain it. But the children made by two reapers have full undead DNA, I'm told. This is bad because the undead metabolism that helps us heal quickly, preserves us, and never lets us die, does a very strange thing when it's created from a birth rather then from a death.

The child of any two undead beings will physically grow until their bodies have matured to look like a young adult. Their minds, however will develop much more slowly. One could argue that you could raise the child as mentally handicapped once it looked like an adult, falsifying certain documentation, but this impossible.

As the child grows, mentally it realizes that it is different, and the older he gets the worse the sorrow for himself will become, so I am told. It is a truly torturous life he leads, each year seeing his body remains the same as it always will be. Knowing he cannot come into contact with any living creature, nor most undead. He lives with the dead. As he gets smarter he becomes trapped within his own head, having so many ideas, and no outlets. Knowing every part of their life, being the size of an adult and wetting the bed, or throwing temper tantrums when he had had handlers that didn't even care for him.

It is not a way that anyone should live, and yet somewhere out there this child I helped create is living in complete solitude. I have been told his only friends are Gravelings, but I think this is just a grim legend. He never felt the love that Margaret had felt when I was with her, he never felt any love. He cannot do anything within the realm where I exist. But just like anyone else his life span is predetermined, and he cannot be destroyed before his appointment. No matter how hard he or anyone tries he will be forced to live until they finally allow his soul to be taken.

This was the consequence of our great love. I couldn't even allow myself to give him a name, but it destroyed our chances of ever being able to be in love again, even if it had been possible. I was transferred away from her, and was never told what happened to her. I knew she was not a reaper, or a leader, because I would have to communicate with her because of my role as leader. Not all leaders have stories like this, but each reaper who is a leader is so as a sort of punishment. Mine just happens to be extreme, and very rare. I am the only reaper currently undead in this predicament.

Mine just happens to keep my from being close to anything or anyone. I try not to be happy because I know I have a son out there somewhere that will never know what happy is. I was given the son I wanted so badly only to have him taken away from me. Knowing I would never know him, or be able to love him. He will never know what love is. He will never know what the good parts of life, as I did. I thought I had forgotten all good in my life, or afterlife, until George came into the picture.

I couldn't help but think about the happy times all those years ago with my happy daughter. With my not so happy wife, in our happy little home. Another creature I helped to create could never even have the memories I had given her, and it made me miserable. Seeing George reminded me of both of my children, and sometimes that was more difficult then anything.

I knew that they would not allow me to transfer her, not matter what she did. She was another part of my punishment, possibly for trying to find out the messenger's identity. I knew that this was something I was not to know, but it was something I felt I had to. I knew that the messenger was a female, and I was almost certain that she was a woman that I knew. I needed to find out for sure that it was or was not Celia. I didn't care either way, but I had to know for sure. As long as I did I was stuck with George as a memory of Margaret.

She was chosen to be a grim reaper because she looked so much like my daughter. I had read it in her file. The Gravelings had seen her as a child, and told upper management. They watched her closely for a very long time, and once she looked just right her appointment came up just as another reaper's quota came.

I was the reason that this young woman with so much life left in her had become a grim reaper. I was the reason that after her encounter with the Gravelings Georgia Lass had been so miserable. I had caused the misery of yet another soul. Every morning I had to see her as a reminder.

Yet, despite all of that I could not help but care for her. She was, in my mind, my daughter. She was there as my second chance to see her grow up, even though I knew logically that I was wrong, my heart would not listen, and it loved her as I had loved Margaret. I loved her the way I wished I could love my son.

The reasons for my afterlife all seemed so clean cut. I worried about them so much that I barely had time to think about my first life. I could not even venture to guess how much longer I would be stuck in this limbo. This was my hell, and I couldn't understand why I was put in there, and until I did I could not leave. My name is Rube, and this is my afterlife.

The End

end notes: this is it folks, no begging for more, this idea is finnished, this is my way to explain rube, please tell me if you liked it... i may write a whole new s2 fic! hehe... thanx for anyone who's said nice things about my first dlm fic!!!!!! hugz and kissez trista


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